The Road Not Taken
by CottageGhost
Summary: Carolyn takes a unique journey on the eve of embarking on the road less traveled...


**_Disclaimer: _**Still not mine; more's the pity.

**_The Road Not Taken_**

Down by land's end, the waves roared furiously to shore, foaming as they bit into the strip of fine sand separating water from rock.

Nearby, on top of a ragged cliff, sat a cozy home overlooking the bay. Inside, an old woman made her way slowly to a favorite chair by the hearth, reaching for an ornate silk shawl before lowering her weary frame gratefully into the large chair. Draping the garment around her frail shoulders, she leaned her head back, closing her eyes with a sigh. _It's been quite the journey, hasn't it, Carolyn?_, the old woman thought to herself, a small smile stretching her pale lips as she tucked a strand of snow-white hair behind her ear out of long habit. She shuddered suddenly, feeling cold despite the comforting flames dancing in the fireplace. She brought the edges of the shawl closer, snuggling deeper within their folds.

"Mrs. Muir? Mrs. Muir, are you quite all right?" came a slightly concerned voice from the bedroom door. Carolyn opened her eyes with an effort to see Clara, her housekeeper, looking at her with a worried frown.

Carolyn sighed. "Of course, I'm all right," she replied in an annoyed tone. "Can't a girl close her eyes for a few minutes without someone thinking she's got a foot in the grave?"

Clara clucked her tongue as she approached her employer, depositing the tray she had been carrying on the ottoman by Carolyn's feet. "Really, Mrs. Muir. You shouldn't talk like that – you still have plenty of years ahead of you."

Carolyn snorted. "Now, that's wishful thinking if I ever heard it. What's that?" she asked as the housekeeper held a glass out to her.

"The usual – warm milk."

Carolyn scowled. "I don't like warm milk," she stated in a tone most everyone would have read as dangerous.

That particular tone had lost its dangerous edge some time back for Clara. "Now, now, Mrs. Muir. You know Doctor Ferguson prescribed it to help you sleep as you can't take a sedative with your other medication." She softened a bit, trying for a reasonable approach. "We've been through this before. I know you don't like it, but it does work for you, doesn't it? You always sleep like a baby after you've taken it." Clara leaned slightly toward Carolyn, bringing the glass closer to her hand. "Please? For me?"

Normally, Clara's winsome smile would have melted her heart and made her relent. But that particular night, Carolyn felt especially cross and decided to make her displeasure known in no uncertain terms. "I SAID, I DO NOT LIKE WARM MILK!" Gratified to see Clara take a surprised step back at the ferocity of her usually frail voice, Carolyn went on. "I'm tired of being doted on like some senile old hag who's lost her marbles. LEAVE ME ALONE! And take that bilge back with you!"

Looking for all the world like she'd been slapped, Clara took another step back, then, without a word, she returned the glass to the tray and made her way to the door, tears standing clearly in her eyes. Carolyn watched her retreating back, wishing for the hundredth time she didn't have such a quick temper. But not knowing what to say to make things better, she let the housekeeper go without another word, leaning her head against the chair once more.

_Call her back._

Carolyn sighed, exasperated. "Don't you start bossing me around, too," she growled at the disembodied voice.

_Call her back at once, I say, you stubborn old she-devil!_ the voice thundered in reply, the tone brooking no dissent. _You can't leave her like that – call her now!_

Carolyn sighed again, but in defeat this time. "Oh, all right, you great bully – if only to get you off my case." In a slightly louder voice, she called out, "Clara? Clara, are you still there?"

The housekeeper's head poked back into the room almost immediately, her face having regained its composure, for the most part. "Ma'am?"

Carolyn suddenly felt horrible as she remembered the unshed tears in the other woman's eyes. "I'm so sorry, Clara," she said huskily, a lump in her throat. "I'm a mean, old woman; I had no reason to treat you like that."

"Come now," Clara said soothingly, bustling back in with the same tray she had been carrying earlier. Putting it on the bed, she crossed to her employer and knelt by her side, reaching up a hand to the wrinkled cheeks to brush away the tears that seeped from Carolyn's sad green eyes. "Please don't beat yourself over this, Mrs. Muir; I know you're tired. It's normal for you to feel a little short." Clara smiled. "No harm done."

Carolyn considered the younger woman silently for a moment before shaking her head. "I don't deserve you," she said softly, feeling the tears threatening again.

"Oh, hush," Clara said dismissively, feeling uncomfortable with all this emotional business. In an effort to break the mood, she stood and went to pick up a small table from one corner of the room, bringing it within easy reach of Carolyn's chair. "There – I'll leave the glass here with you so you can drink it at your leisure. Just holler when you're ready for bed; I'll come up and help you. All right?"

Carolyn nodded, feeling somewhat better now that things seemed to be back on an even keel. "Thank you, Clara. But I think I can manage fine by myself. Go get some rest of your own – I've been enough of a pest already." She gave the housekeeper a heartfelt smile. "Sweet dreams, my friend."

Clara smiled back. "And to you, Mrs. Muir." Satisfied that things were as they should be, Clara picked up the tray and left the room, partly closing the door on her way out.

Carolyn shook her head fondly before turning back to the small table now standing near her chair. Giving a resigned half-smile, she reached for the glass sitting there and brought it to her lips, trying not to grimace. She winced as she swallowed, a now-familiar pain shooting up her left arm with surprising intensity. Feeling slightly faint from it, she opened her mouth to call for Clara, but closed it without a sound. Instead, Carolyn sank a little further against the leather of the chair and closed her eyes wearily even as she moved the glass back to the table, or thought she did: she couldn't seem to feel its weight or its warmth anymore. _This is it_, she thought as overwhelming fatigue engulfed her. Her lips stretched into a faint smile. _What do you know – all this time I've been waiting for this, and it still catches me unawares. Wonder how Daniel would have reacted to it if he'd died at my age…_ Unbeknownst to her, the glass missed the edge of the table and slipped from her nerveless fingers, even as a sudden burst of light blotted out everything else around her…


End file.
